


Sweater

by paperstorm



Series: 12 Days of Stucky Christmas [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brooklyn, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: Part 4 of the 12 Days of Stucky Christmas series. The heat goes out.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: 12 Days of Stucky Christmas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559701
Comments: 17
Kudos: 74





	Sweater

_1938_  
  
Steve wakes up abruptly. It isn’t a slow, gentle return to consciousness, the morning tugging him softly from sleep. It’s harsh and quick, almost like being startled by a sudden loud noise. His eyes pop open, and in an instant, he understands why as his entire body contracts and his skin tightens, limbs automatically curling toward his core.  
  
“F-fuck,” he breathes, shivering, molars clenching together. He lifts his head and looks down. He can see his bare legs and his t-shirt, uncovered. A look to the left reveals the reason – the blankets have been dragged completely over to Bucky’s side of the bed. Steve can’t even see him, he’s buried under the pile.  
  
Another violent shiver shakes through Steve. Even without blankets, he shouldn’t be _this_ cold. He realizes, with a sinking pit in his stomach, that the heat must have gone out.  
  
“Bucky,” he says, voice quivering. He rolls over and shoves at the blanket pile.  
  
A sleepy groan comes from underneath it.  
  
“B-Buck,” Steve insists, poking him harder. “Wake up, th-the heat’s out.”  
  
The pile moves, and Bucky’s head emerges out the top, messy hair and bleary eyes and pillow-lines on his face. He looks confused and disoriented for a moment, but then his eyes widen as he looks at Steve. “Oh shit. Did I take all the covers?”  
  
“Yeah.” While his muscles feel too frozen to work properly, Steve still tries to get up. “We gotta f-fix it.”  
  
“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says sharply, grabbing Steve’s arm and not letting him move away. “Look at you, you’re blue! Forget about the heat for a minute, we gotta get you warm or you’re gonna catch something.”  
  
The chill has sunk so far down into his bones that Steve can barely move, so he doesn’t argue. He lies back down, and Bucky flings the blankets off himself to dislodge them and then drags them up over them both, yanking Steve unceremoniously into his arms. He wraps both around Steve, and tosses a leg over him too, holding him in close.  
  
Steve’s skin prickles painfully as the warmth seeps into his icy flesh. “Shit,” he breathes. He pushes his cold nose under Bucky’s chin, chasing after heat and relief.  
  
“Jesus Christ, you’re frozen solid,” Bucky says, hand rubbing Steve’s upper arm, trying to coax some life back into him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to steal all the blankets.”  
  
“It’s o-okay,” Steve answers, teeth still chattering. He feels himself slowly thaw, the cold melting away and his body soaking up the heat of Bucky’s. “Your Ma would cuff you on the back of the head for taking Jesus’s name in vain on his birthday.”  
  
“Good thing she isn’t here, then. Fuck, why did the heat have to break on Christmas, that doesn’t seem fair.”  
  
“Maybe it’ll be a quick fix.”  
  
“If we can’t fix it ourselves, we’ll definitely have to wait until tomorrow. Brown’s not gonna come out here on Christmas Day.”  
  
“Probably not.” Steve exhales, and his muscles finally relax under his warming skin. He trails his nose along Bucky’s neck, fingers gripping loosely in a handful of Bucky’s t-shirt around the small of his back.  
  
“Doin’ better?” Bucky asks.  
  
Steve nods. “Yeah. Thanks.”  
  
“You don’t have to thank me, it’s my fault. If you get pneumonia again I’m gonna be so damn mad at myself.”  
  
“It’s not your fault for doing something accidently in your sleep without realizing,” Steve points out.  
  
Bucky’s lips find his forehead. Now wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and the mellow, sleepy smell of Bucky’s skin, Steve has completely lost the desire to get up and try to fix the radiators. Staying right here all day long sounds like a much more enjoyable option. He tilts his chin up, blinking as he meets Bucky’s eyes.  
  
Bucky’s lips curve into a soft smile. His hand cups Steve’s cheek. “Hi.”  
  
“Merry Christmas,” Steve says, and Bucky’s smile widens.  
  
“Oh yeah. We didn’t say that yet, did we?”  
  
Steve shakes his head.  
  
“Merry Christmas, babydoll.” Bucky moves his head closer on the pillow, nudging his nose against Steve’s, and then pressing a kiss to his lips. Steve deepens it, not caring that it’s stale.  
  
“I don’t wanna get up anymore,” he whispers.  
  
Bucky chuckles quietly. “A few more minutes, then.”  
  
A half hour later Steve finally finds the will to drag himself out, back into the frigid air of the room. They both dress quickly, pulling on long-underwear under their slacks and multiple pairs of socks and two sweaters each. Steve borrows one of Bucky’s, a red and blue one Winnifred knitted for him a few months ago. It’s too big on Steve so it’s cozier, the seams drooping off his shoulders and the sleeves long enough to hang down over his hands. Bucky pulls Steve into another kiss before they leave the bedroom, murmuring about liking how Steve looks in his clothes.  
  
Bucky takes a screwdriver and a pair of pliers to the radiator in the living room, but doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Steve doesn’t either. And likely, since all three of their radiators have gone cold, the problem is with the pipes or the boiler in the basement and they wouldn’t be able to fix it anyway even if they did know what they were doing. It also likely means the heat is out for the entire building. Steve hopes everyone else is okay. He knows there are some small children on the lower floors.  
  
Steve puts on a coat and boots and takes a penny out to the telephone boot on the street-corner, calling their landlord, but the man doesn’t answer, so the line goes dead and the machine spits the penny back out at him. He sighs, but isn’t surprised as he traipses back up the four flights of snow-covered stairs to their unit.  
  
Bucky knows from the look on Steve’s face that he wasn’t successful. “Was he pissed you bothered him?”  
  
“Didn’t even answer.” Steve shrugs out of his coat and shakes the snow from his hair. “Probably opening presents with his family.”  
  
“So we’ll just freeze to death, I guess.” Bucky sighs, tossing the wrench in his hand down onto the couch and rubbing his hands over his face.  
  
Steve doesn’t respond. It isn’t the first time they’ve been without heat for a day or two, and they’ve always survived, even though Steve usually does get sick afterward. He moves into the kitchen, the multiple socks feeling spongey under his feet as he walks, and puts the kettle on the stove. Bucky follows him, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
He sighs again as Steve takes two mugs from the upper cupboard. “Some Christmas, huh?” he says dejectedly.  
  
“We’ll be fine, Buck.” Steve turns to him, and offers him a smile. “There’s other ways to keep warm.”  
  
Bucky gets his meaning, and does reluctantly return Steve’s smile. “Oh yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.” Steve nods, and points at the kettle. “Hot drinks.”  
  
Bucky cracks up. “Oh, that’s what you mean.”  
  
“Yeah, what did you think?” Steve jokes, with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“You’re an absolute riot.” Bucky comes further into the room. He pulls Steve in by the waist and kisses him. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and kisses back, parting his lips, tongue darting out to taste. Bucky still seems reluctant, though, and Steve frowns.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he asks.  
  
Bucky shrugs a shoulder, and leans down to rest his forehead against Steve’s. “Wish I could fix it, that’s all. Not much of a provider.”  
  
Steve snorts. “Provider? I’m not your wife. You don’t need to take care of me.”  
  
“I still want to.”  
  
“You do. In all the ways you can.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“‘Course. We take care of each other, right?”  
  
“We do.”  
  
The kettle whistles, and Steve removes himself from Bucky’s arms to pick it up off the burner. He pours steaming water into their old, cracked teapot, and takes teabags from a cannister on the counter, popping two into the pot. Bucky takes the mugs and carries them into the living room, so Steve follows with the teapot, setting it down on their coffee table with a folded towel underneath so it won’t scald the wood. Bucky sits, and nods at the space next to him. Steve takes the invitation and flops down beside him. Bucky lifts his arm and Steve snuggles against his chest.  
  
“This looks good on you,” Bucky says, fingering the wool of his own sweater on Steve’s arm.  
  
“You said that already.”  
  
“It’s worth saying twice.”  
  
Steve grins.  
  
“Kiss me again?” Bucky asks.  
  
Steve does, tilting his head back and letting Bucky slide their lips together.  
  
“So, about those other ways to keep warm,” Bucky begins, and Steve chuckles.  
  
“Yeah.” He stands up and settles back down over Bucky’s thighs, in his lap. Bucky’s hands curl around Steve’s hips, and Steve drapes his arms over Bucky’s shoulders and kisses him deeper. Still slow, and thorough, but with a slightly heightened sense of urgency. Steve pushes forward, tilting his hips, grinding them up against Bucky’s stomach just to hear him sigh breathlessly. It isn’t much of anything, yet, but the moment has a tingle of anticipation about it. A promise of how fast it could become something. How easy it would be for Steve to keep grinding, until they’re both hard and straining up against their slacks. Until Bucky is flushed underneath him, and Steve could reach into his pants and take that smooth stiffness into his hand. Bucky’s right, that would definitely warm them up.  
  
“Happy Birthday, Jesus,” Bucky murmurs, seductively into Steve’s mouth, and Steve bursts into giggles and thumps him on the shoulder.  
  
“You’re terrible.”  
  
“You love me, though.”  
  
“Yeah, moron. Tragically, I do.”  
  
Bucky smiles up at him, eyes shining with all sorts of unspoken emotions. He reaches up, cupping Steve’s face in his hands. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me [on tumblr](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/) [or twitter](https://twitter.com/turningthedials) if you want!


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